


The Last Wish

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Claiming, Incest, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:18:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Last wish? Watch me with him."</p><p>Originally written December 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Wish

Sara knows how she got here but she doesn’t really know how the Hell she ended up _here_. No, see, she knows that makes no sense, but really what does when a woman’s watching her boyfriend make out with his brother? The answer is the same as the question – nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Michael’s head tips back, his long neck exposed to the breaking sunrise shining through the dirty windows of the boat and his older brother’s seeking lips, and he moans in a way that Sara’s never heard before. She wonders how many times he’s moaned this way for Lincoln. How many other things she’s never heard or seen between the two because, honestly, this seems to be just the tip of the iceberg.

There is the whole issue of this being Michael’s last wish…

__

 

The night before they go for Scylla, Sara finds Michael and Lincoln arguing in that quiet way they do. They hiss at each other like angry snakes, each with his voice raised only a few decibels above their normal speaking tones, and glaring the other down with spear-like eyes differing shades of blue.

Tripping over the conversation in the middle, Sara can’t help but notice how different they are while also acknowledging how they are the same. Complimenting the other in the way that only relatives can.

“Why are you pressing this?”

“Because you might die tomorrow and you’re acting like Scylla is what matters most.”

Michael’s pale, but then he’s been pale since Sara first saw him in Los Angeles. The doctor in her chides that she should have known something was wrong then. He’s hunched in the corner of the warehouse like he wants to disappear and Sara’s mouth tightens as she looks at Lincoln cornering him, wondering how long he’s been on Michael’s case.

Michael’s looking everywhere but his brother and Sara tucks herself behind a pile of useless crates so that he won’t notice her. “Isn’t it? Don’t you want to see LJ again? Live a normal life?”

“Michael, I don’t know what a normal life is but you’re alive in it. I’m not going to lose you,” Lincoln’s hard face relaxes into sadness. “So all this talk about preparing and last wishes needs to stop.”

Finally, Michael comes out of the corner, comes so close to Lincoln to speak that Sara has trouble hearing.

“Even if it’s our last chance for this?”

Sara watches confused as Michael takes Lincoln’s hand in his own and entwines them. The older man seems to shrink then, a polar reversal of their positions, while Michael appears to grow stronger, bolder. Bold enough to pull Lincoln by that same hand and seal the space between them with a kiss that’s anything but brotherly.

Sara swears that there’s a thunderclap over her head. Something powerful that jars her deep down and tethers her to the concrete as if the solid ground has become liquid. She doesn’t expect to see this but she wonders if maybe she should have.

She wants to be angry and sad and horrified and maybe she is, a little bit, because everything that she thought she knew about Michael has changed. There’s another secret to add to all the hundreds of others that they pretend aren’t yawning between them like a canyon. But this secret nullifies the others and all of the promises they made to each other about some day.

This topples it all to the foundations.

Lincoln’s face is pinched like he’s in pain but he’s kissing Michael back, passionately. Michael’s taking tiny breaths, taking sips from Lincoln’s lips, and holding his brother’s head still with the hand not being held.

When Lincoln tears away, Sara can feel her lungs expand in relief. He rests his forehead against Michael’s, his face so soft and wistful that she has a hard time hanging onto her apathy.

“This is my last wish, Linc, baby. Please.” Michael’s words are a whisper but Sara can hear them just fine. “I know you want to, so do this for me.”

“Do what?” Sara asks, finally coming out of the shadows. The gravity of a ‘last wish’ drives her to act because if that’s what this is all about then she thinks she has the right to be included. That is, if Michael really ever wanted her to be a part of his future.

Lincoln doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest that she’s been hiding while Michael, on the other hand, turns an interesting shade of pink and pulls away from their questionable hold. There’s no need to hide but he doesn’t know that and Sara’s not going to say a thing until they do.

The brothers look at each other and then away, drawing out the silent stalemate that Sara's resolved not to break. Michael swallows audibly, pushes his forehead against the palms of his hands, and faces her boldly. Sara’s strangely proud of him.

“The-there’s an explanation-.”

“I saw,” Sara interrupts, watching their faces carefully for reactions.

Michael looks away, embarrassed and maybe ashamed, but he looks to his brother, who’s staring at Sara as if it’s her opinion that matters the most. And maybe it is because whatever the brothers are to each other hasn’t changed, while what they are to her, what she makes them, can determine their fate.

“Watch us together,” Lincoln says abruptly, sending Sara’s mind spinning once again. He’s blunt, but this whole dangerous situation is a blunt object battering against the last of Sara’s defenses. She’s numb from the abuse, emotionless.

Michael still won’t look at her. Rather, he’s staring at Lincoln with surprise and it dawns on Sara that despite that surrealism of the situation, Michael never expected this to go so far. Sara hasn’t go running for the hills. Lincoln isn’t choking on his shame. Michael is serious, she could tell, but his last wish is only that – a wish.

Then, Sara saw what he didn’t expect her to see. She saw, and that changed everything for Michael. Threw his little world into the same loop that Sara’s been whirling around for minutes now and, to Sara, knowing how off-kilter this methodical, confusing, mysterious man really is, is enough for her mind to take that final step outside of convention.

Sara’s itching with the same reckless feeling that’s driven her into and out of addiction, into strange love with a convict, and beyond desperation when the Company stripped away her old family and gave her a new, albeit more dysfunctional, one.

Both brothers are staring, waiting for an answer, but for once the scrutiny doesn’t make her uncomfortable. They’re asking for permission to do this, and even though she suspects they’ve had trysts before, the inclusion into their sacred circle stomps on any feelings of betrayal for now.

Her tongue feels like sandpaper in her mouth but she speaks anyway because that’s what they’re waiting for, that’s what they always expect from her.

“Okay.”

It’s sobering to find out how far you’ll go for love.

__

 

Michael’s naked on their bed and even though Sara saw his body just this morning, she can’t stop staring. Wide, tanned hands span the width of his shoulders, fingers kneading the pale skin and leaving behind a rosy, blood filled tint.

Sara’s way too close to them sitting on the other side of the bed. She wants to retreat to the other side of the boat, she wants to leave the warehouse altogether and just walk as far away as possible. But she knows that she won’t. She’ll stay right here because she’s terrified to be alone with all of the things she’s seen and she knows that, for some reason, both of these men would protect her with their lives.

Sara trusts them even when she feels like she doesn’t know them at all.

There’s a stirring in her belly, a match to the stirring in her heart. She honestly doesn’t know if she’s turned on by this, if she can be, but she watches anyway simply because they asked her to.

Her eyes skim cautiously over Lincoln, feeling lecherous even though it’s her boyfriend on the bed with someone else. He appears completely entranced and Sara can understand why. He’s lying underneath Michael, wrapped around him from bow to stern, limbs everywhere like an octopus.

It’s obvious to Sara that they’ve done this before. Maybe not in the last few years, but they kiss like two long lost lovers, mouths open and tongues searching at their leisure.

Warm gushing between her legs takes Sara by surprise. It’s the kissing, it has to be. The heat of the boat has gotten to her, that’s all, flushing up her neck and cheeks, her forehead dripping with sweat.

They’d warmed her up for this. Both men standing awkwardly before the clothes came off, trading glances between them and her then starting off with gentle kisses on the cheek, over stubble and hard jaws. It was so strange to see them being that gentle with each other when they usually trade in hard looks and uneasy handshakes that Sara stared even when she’d sworn that she would look away.

Now, all the careful pecking has somehow lead to this convergence of flesh and bone.

Sara doesn’t know if they’re going to fuck. They seem comfortable to just rub against each other. Michael’s close from the sound of his moans and the tense line of his back. Lincoln muffles what would have been his own loud cry and Sara imagines that he’s spilling between their abdomens, his cock pressed so tight against Michael’s stomach that it’s almost like being inside him.

Sara watches the flexing of his ass and silently recants the thought that she couldn’t be turned on by this. What woman wouldn’t be? But she’s not about to go jumping into the fray. There’s a statement in this, something just between the two brothers, and she’s not going to do more than watch.

“Oh Jesus Christ, Michael,” Lincoln’s gasping when Michael slides down his body to lick at the semen smeared on his brother’s stomach and cock. Sara can see him palming his own hard cock and she finds herself licking her lips.

Lincoln’s strong hands pull Michael up and up, to crawl over his chest and shoulders, and take that cock into his mouth. Sara never thought she’d see this, Lincoln sucking hard and nearly invisible underneath Michael’s body. Michael seems shocked as well, mouth open and panting, arms resting on the wall while he kneels and blinks and shakes so hard that Sara thinks he might hurt himself.

“Linc, Linc, please…” Michael’s pleading dies off just when he jerks and comes in his big brother’s mouth. Sara can see Lincoln trying to catch it all, digging his head into the pillows so that he can pull back and taste it on his tongue. She must make a noise at the sight because as Michael still quivers two sets of blue-hued eyes fix upon her.

Michael’s sweaty and trying to catch his breath as he pulls out of Lincoln’s mouth and carefully shifts over to kiss her. Sara remembers only a second before where his lips have been and closes her eyes at the taste of salt and tacky sweetness – Lincoln’s come shared between them.

She doesn’t expect Michael to kiss the same way and it shocks her to stillness that he still does. He’s love and comfort and restraint bundled up in a simple press of lips and tongue that takes her breath the same way it did the first time. Sara’s gently scraping her fingernails over his scalp like she always does as if this time isn’t different. As if Lincoln isn’t less than a foot away, licking the taste of his brother from his lips.

She’s embarrassed how wet she is when Michael ends the kiss and nudges her down to lay beside the both of them. She's still trying not to look at Lincoln but Michael places him right between them and the older man's staring blatantly at her.

Her vision flickers to Lincoln once, twice, and then his hands are on her head, pulling her over his chest and fusing his mouth with hers. She tries to yank away but his hand is like an anchor and Michael’s silent beside them so she stops struggling, offers them this last piece of herself even though she’s certain that there’s nothing left to give.

Lincoln's mouth is hard then so soft that Sara doesn’t even realize that she’s opened her mouth to his tongue until it flickers against her teeth. He tastes like salt, sweat obviously, but something else that she goes searching for until the discovery hits her and she squeaks.

Michael. They’re sharing the taste of Michael.

__

 

“What happens if you don’t die tomorrow? If the surgery goes as planned and we can all go our separate ways? Can we really be a family after this?”

Michael’s facing her on his side. They’re alone in bed, Lincoln gone to shower and sleep by himself. There was no discussion about that, not that Sara would know what to say even if there had been.

She doesn’t quite know what to do now. Their sheets still smell like sex and her clothes are damp with the brothers’ sweat. It will be dawn soon so she doesn’t see the point in trying to sleep now. So she talks, mumbles really, and waits for Michael to answer her. It takes almost ten minutes.

“We’ve always been a family, Sara. Nothing’s changed.”

But it has, Sara wants to say. Everything changed yesterday, just as everything can change again today because in a few hours Michael could be dead. They all could be dead. Nothing is certain.

A hand falls on her wrist, holds until she looks over at him and meets his tired eyes.

“Nothing’s changed,” Michael reaffirms. “We’ll get Scylla, bring down the Company, and get as far away from here as possible.”

“And if Lincoln goes back to Panama to be with LJ?”

“Then we’ll still be together,” Michael tightens his grip. “Linc and I…we’ve been apart so much…these moments between us aren’t permanent. They never have been. I’m not saying what we do is right but-,” Sara stops him with a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t need to explain anything to her.

“Rest. You need your sleep,” she says, putting her back to him and pulling his arms around her waist. She feels him sigh then there’s nothing else.

She won’t sleep, only think about the coming dawn, and how she’ll wake like always, go to the warehouse’s kitchen, and make a big pot of coffee for everyone else. She doesn’t try to predict anything after that.

END


End file.
